The Lost Art of Gentleness: Addressing the Lie of "Lean In" Culture Sold to Young Women
Perhaps the much needed feminine revival in the home starts with speaking more gently to our husbands and children.
Having been born in the 90s to two successful, business-minded parents, as a child I was taught that girls and women were historically encouraged to hold their tongue, either directly or through peer pressure. Therefore, the only way to exist nobly in the world as a woman today is to speak up, to “lean in” (a phrase popularized by Sheryl Sandberg’s hit book that came out when I was in high school).
This philosophy took root in my mind in a lasting way largely because I played competitive sports. My life dream growing up was to be a professional soccer player, and I had my fair share of encounters with mean girls along the way. Usually the butt of their jokes, my loved ones encouraged me to stick up for myself by throwing their harshness back at them.
It seemed like a reasonable strategy to play tough so I could get what I wanted, both on and off the field.
Then, I met my husband. And, shortly after, I became Catholic.
My husband is the strongest yet most gentle man I’ve ever met. He will fight like mad to protect his loved ones, but you would never know it by how tenderly he talks to our children and me.
As the first few years of our marriage went by, as I got to know my husband more deeply and I became a mother, I began to realize just how much I lacked this tenderness and how much it hurt the people I love most that it wasn’t a virtue I had ever valued, let alone spent effort to acquire.
Every time I spoke harshly to my husband, I could see the damage it caused. Like ripping a small hole in a beautiful shirt, you can sew the rip up but the shirt will never look the same. It’s been a painful lesson for me: we can be limitless in our forgiveness with each other, but the words we say have a lasting impact.
Eventually, I stumbled across the book, The Virtues of Mary by Fr. Luigi Lanzoni, and it served as the final nail in the coffin on my realization that the “lean in” culture of my youth had been one of the most harmful lies sold to me. Here’s an excerpt:
“‘Son, why have you done this to us? Your father and I have been looking for you with great anxiety.’* How tender are these words, not of reproof but of enquiry… A question asked quietly and gently is usually far more modest, delicate and affectionate than an assertion… we admire in Mary’s words, authority with humility. Her complaint is just, but without bitterness. Her words are noble and tender”. - Fr. Luigi Lanzoni, The Virtues of Mary
*Luke 2:48
This passage is one of my favorites from the short book, and it’s now become my primary relational goal to replicate in my life this ideal of gentle speech, first with my family and then with the rest of the world.
What I love most about this passage is that it offers a hopeful alternative to being an assertive, domineering young woman: you can be gentle and righteous at the same time. You can seek justice “without bitterness”.
We can make requests of others, let them know how we’re feeling, and even give feedback in a way that doesn’t upset the situation further. The secret, according to Father Lanzoni, is to speak always from a place of love for God and the other person. To love is to want what’s best for the other. If I truly wanted what’s best for my husband, when I ask for his help or share feedback I’d do so in a way that reflects how much I adore him.
If I truly wanted that’s best for my toddler, I would tell him “no” firmly but without anger every time he acts up so that he knows Mommy loves him no matter what. And on and on to every other person I have the privilege of speaking with every day.
But, what if I’m not feeling so loving? What if I’m overwhelmed or frustrated or hurt? In these cases, I’m practicing holding my tongue, since if I can’t be gentle, then what is better than speaking harshly is to not speak at all. At least until I’ve had a chance to breathe, pray, and get ahold of my emotions. Then, my mind and heart are in charge rather than my feelings.
It’s been a difficult challenge so far, to say the least. I imagine it’ll be a lifelong process to learn how to speak more like Mary. But, Jesus in his infinite wisdom (and a good dose of humor, I think) has a way of convicting us most about those shortcomings that we may not even see in ourselves but are most damaging to our relationship with him and others.
Here’s what I tell myself when I’m struggling most to cultivate this virtue of feminine gentleness: Mother Theresa seems to have gotten it right when she said, “I see Jesus in every human being.” If we can see his heavenly face in the faces of our husbands, our children, and our community, then we have every reason to speak as gently and lovingly to others as we would to Jesus himself.